


Vengeance [A Newt/Void Stiles Fic]

by Thomaddicted



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Beacon Hills, Dreams, Emotional Manipulation, Flashbacks, Gangs, Gay Newt, Ghosts, Grooming, Homophobia, Hurt, LOTS of violence, M/M, Manipulation, Mischief, Murder, Naughty Fun, Nemeton, Nightmares, No like he's a REALLY bad friend, Nogitsune, Possession, Post Series, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Sexual Situations, Sexy Derek Hale, Straight Thomas, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teen Wolf, The Maze Runner - Freeform, Time Travel, Trauma, Unrequited Love, Vengeance Demon(s), Void Stiles Wants Revenge, Whitey Winn - Freeform, because why not, encouraging Void Stiles, evil fun, lots of death, newt is dead, painful rejection, post movies, powerful Newt, some fun, sterek, sterek sex, sterek smut, vengeance, void, void newtmas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-04-27 17:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomaddicted/pseuds/Thomaddicted
Summary: Got the idea thanks to a post on bloody.runner's Instagram.Basically, Newt dies, and winds up in the void.He meets someone who looks awfully familiar.Newt realized most of his life has been a lie. He does not take it well.In This Fic:**Thomas is straight**Newtmas is brotp not otp**Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories**Void Stiles is a dickI AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.These are dark demons we're dealing with people.





	1. Into The Void

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for trauma, panic attacks, claustrophobia, depression, and manipulation.
> 
> (<\---Anything between these are Newt's memories--->)
> 
> Still here? 
> 
>  
> 
> Here we go.

Newt stood in the middle of a dark room.

He had no idea how he got there, but there he was. Standing in his blue shirt, with his brown jacket, with the fur collar. His green cargo pants tucked into his black boots.

He looked down at his slim frame, holding his arms out at his sides. The pain in his leg, a sign of his permanent limp, was gone. So was that pesky knife in his chest.

Tommy.

 

(Please, Tommy....)

 

Newt's tongue felt like it was weighted, heavy. He rubbed his lip and pulled away his hand. No blood. No goo. No flare.

The sensation overwhelmed his senses, and a scream wanted to come from inside him. It was all locked away.

He took a minute to compose himself.

 

(Please..... Please Tommy)

 

He walked over to what looked like a wall. He reached a hand out in front of him. His steps were blocky, and unsure. As though he was unaware how to use his legs.

His hands reached in front of him. There should be something. A wall. A door. Something. He tried running

 

(I used to be a runnah, tommeh.....)

 

but even after what felt like 10 minutes, the room was still a room. Was it a room? A space

 

(welcome to the glade)

 

so huge had to have an exit, or an entrance, or

 

(griever hole) 

 

something that he could get out. Newt ran in another direction, trying to purposely collide with a wall, a trap, SOMETHING

 

NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING

 

Newt halted, panting, crying. Just emptiness. Darkness. Black. Empty.

 

"Say it" 

 

It was so soft, Newt was scarcely sure he heard it. 

 

"Here"

 

Newt spun around, looking in all directions. He heard something. Something. Some voice. Some body. Someone.

 

Newt started to buckle. The wide, open space he was in now felt tiny. Tight. He wasn't claustrophobic, but now, he couldn't breathe.

It dawned on him why he was alone. He was dead. 

 

(I'm sorry......sorry tommy.....)

 

Gun

No

Knife

Fight

Knife

(AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!)

 

Knife

Heart

Tommy

"Say it"

Tommy

Help

(KILL ME)

Help

Me

 

(KILLLLLLLMEEEEEEEEEE)

 

"here"

Newt clutched his heart. Was it his heart?

Is it a heart if it still doesn't beat?

 

"That's a good riddle...."

 

Newt stopped again.

That wasn't his voice.

It was in his head, but it wasn't his voice. It was no voice he'd heard before.

 

Newt heard a giggle. A soft giggle. It bothered him, and he couldn't say why.

It was a sound from his past. 

And it echoed.

 

Newt looked around, trying to find out where it was coming from. It was coming from everywhere.

"Stop." 

The whisper was his voice now.

"Stop."

He can talk now.

"Speak"

"Stop It."

"Here"

"STOP!"

"Where are you?"

(name's newt greenie)

"STOP!"

(he's in charge....)

"No...."

Newt shook his head, as if to clear it.

The giggles had multiplied, and gotten louder.

The voices were all present now. His. The whisperer. The other.....what ever that was...

"That is a good riddle...."

Stop

"What does everyone have....

STOP

that no one can looooooossssssseeeeeeeeeee"

STOP IT

The open space was gone now. Newt could feel it now.

It meant to kill him.

Kill him

(KIIIIILLLLLLLLMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYY!)

 

How could he die? Wasn't he already......

 

"That IS a good riddle....isn't it....?"

"Newt."

 

What?

"Allllllmmoooooosssssssstttt Thhhhheeeeerrrrrreeeeeeeeee"

No.

No.

No.

 

"But you wanted it, Newt."

"no....I didn't want...."

"You wanted him to hold you...."

"Not like......"

"One last time.....or just once....."

"Not like that...."

"Careful what you wish for......"

The giggles were lower, but this voice.....this new voice....was.....familiar...."

"I didn't want to....I didn't want Tommy to....."

"But he did.....didn't he....?"

"He didn't mean to...."

"Now you're here....."

"I'm not......no.....I'm not......I.....I....."

"You're dead Newtie. Your imaginary boyfriend murdered you. Now you're dead. And he's alive, happy without you."

 

Newt felt his legs drop from under him.

There it was. 

Newt felt his heart shatter.

But the giggle kept laughing. Taunting him. Mocking him.

Tommy

Tommy

Tommy

He didn't even cry, did he?

He carried on forever with Chuck

(you can't give up.....)

He didn't even cry....

(I won't let you.....)

Newt searched his clouded memories....he saw Tommy....he couldn't speak....but he could see Tommy. 

He felt the cold of the night. Saw the flames burning around them.

Tommy

Tommy

Tommy was looking at Brenda.

Brenda

Tommy

He didn't.....

"awwww.....he's gonna cry now......"

"T....Tommy....."

"He left you to die...."

"Shut up."

"He left you...."

"SHUT. UP."

"You know he was straight and didn't love you. Right?"

 

"SSSSSHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTT UUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPP!"

 

The darkness around his body fractured, and the pieces shattered.

Just at the point where the light blinded him, and his voice gave out, he collapsed.

 

Newt lay on the floor. Where there had been pitch black nothing, now was white. 

White.

Pure.

Blinding.

White.

Still nothing.

 

No.

"Hey."

Newt looked up. 

Standing in front of him was Tommy.

 

No.

 

Not. Tommy.

 

He looked like Tommy.

He looked like Tommy would, if Tommy bothered to style his hair.

 

This guy had darker eyes. Darker eyes, and dark circles under his eyes.

He was nearly as pale as Newt.

 

(name's newt greenie)

 

The boy smiled, and it made Newt feel funny. Excited, and scared. 

"I......who.....are...you?"

 

The boy leered, and crouched down to Newt's level, where he was on the floor still.

"I have many names, child. The first I can remember is Chaos." 

He searched Newt's eyes, seeking something only he knew.

"The last name I can remember being called is Stiles. For the sake of this meeting, you may call me Void Stiles."

 

"Where.....where am I?"

"You're in the void now."

"The.....void?"

Void Stiles stood, and extended his hand.

"Come on. I'll show you how everything works."

Hesitantly, Newt reached up.

For a second, he saw Tommy's face, behind the dark eyes.

"You look like the kind of guy that has some stories to tell." Void Stiles pulled Newt up.

They stood eye to eye, and Newt flushed at the close contact. Void Stiles leaned in, and quickly raised his eyebrows seductively.

"I......" Newt stammered, trying to find words.

"shhhhh"

Void Stiles leaned in and took Newt's chin in his hand. 

"I'm going to show you how to get anything......and everything.....you want."

 

"What is it you think I want?" Newt closed his eyes.

"The same thing I want." Void Stiles whispered, his lips brushing so softly against Newt's they felt like ghosts.

 

"Revenge."


	2. The Day The World Went Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One in the Void.
> 
> Rise and Shine Greenie.
> 
> Newt learns more about the intriguing boy he is stranded with. 
> 
> Some naughtiness in this chapter, but no smut.
> 
>  
> 
> Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt realized most of his life has been a lie. He does not take it well.  
> In This Fic:  
> **Thomas is straight  
> **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
> **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
> **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
>  
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

Void Stiles leaned in and took Newt's chin in his hand.

"I'm going to show you how to get anything......and everything.....you want."

 

"What is it you think I want?" Newt closed his eyes.

"The same thing I want." Void Stiles whispered, his lips brushing so softly against Newt's they felt like ghosts.

 

"Revenge."

 

"No."

Thomas gasped, and retreated a few steps away. 

"I don't want revenge."

 

"Don't you?" Void Stiles asked, expectantly.

"They killed you....

"He didn't mean it."

"....and left you to die, alone....like a dog...."

"He didn't. The others...."

"They left you too."

Newt paused, trying to remember.

"They took me."

"They left you."

"No."

Newt walked away. He closed his eyes, and tried to re-create the scene in his head. 

The boys. Minho. Frypan. Gally. 

Brenda.

 

They were kneeling around him. 

In a circle.

What did they do? 

Newt tried to remember. He was sure he felt them lift him, before.....

 

"They left you."

The voice again. Not his. Not Void Stiles.

 

"They.....wouldn't.....they wouldn't just....."

"They left you."

 

Newt swallowed his tears. He refused to believe...

"I wouldn't leave you." 

Void Stiles's voice was right near his ear. 

Newt shivered as the words hit a spot inside of him. He needed to hear them.

Just as he needed to feel Void Stiles's hand on his shoulder, reassuringly, like he was now.

 

Newt allowed himself that moment of contact. The weight of the hand, the placement...

"Tommy"

"He's not here, Newt..."

Behind Newt's closed eyes, tears began to form, and he felt his chest ache.

 

"Is it a heart if it doesn't beat?"

 

Void Stiles turned Newt around, pulling him into the crook of his neck.

Newt felt the touch, and wished Tommy had held him like this. Even once.

He began to cry.

 

"Shhhh......"

Void Stiles comforted the blond, holding him.

"I wouldn't leave you. I want you, Newt. I need you."

He tilted the blonde's head up toward him, and wiped the tears away, looking deep into Newt's eyes.

Void Stiles moistened his lips, and kissed Newt. Brushing his lips gently against the soft pink lips. Newt closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss.  
A need took over inside of him, and soon, he had his hands wound into Void Stiles's hair. Though his head was screaming for him to stop, a deeper need inside of Newt kept going.

He pulled away, gently. Void Stiles kissed his neck. 

"Stay with me Newt." He whispered along the fine line of Newt's jaw, into his ear. "I need you."

"Newt fought the tears in his eyes.

"I can't. I just...."

"Is it me?" Void Stiles tilted his head. 

He backed away. He spread his arms out to his sides in as if he were presenting the void.

"I am the Void. What do you want to see, Newt? Want to see what this can do?"

Void Stiles snapped his fingers, and the room changed, they were outside, in the ruins of a burning city, then with another snap, they were in a burning wasteland of a desert.

"I can create any reality for you, Newt." 

Newt looked around. He could feel the burning sun, the windblown sand scratching his face.

"Anything you want Newt." 

"Show me them in Paradise."

Void Stiles sneered, but then looked sad.

"You don't want to see that. Not yet."

Newt pursed his lips. 

"Then show me a place I'll feel happy."

With that, Void Stiles snapped his fingers again. The desert melted, and became the Glade. 

The walls were tall and imposing, and Newt could smell the grass, hear the rustling of the wind in the trees.

His hand flew to his mouth. He had not realized how much he had missed the Glade. How simple things were back there. How safe.

"I can give you anything you want, Newt." 

Newt turned around, and saw that Void Styles had become Thomas.

 

Tommy.

 

In his blue henley shirt, unbuttoned enough to show the tease of chest hair Newt always wanted to touch. His hair messy and tousled from whatever bothered him that day.

Newt's eyes filled with tears. No. It couldn't be this easy.

"How did you do that?" 

"Is this what you want?"

Newt looked around.

Him, and Tommy, in the Glade. No Grievers. No Flare. No needs.

He looked at Void Stiles. He looked like Tommy in every way. The eyes. The eyes were different. Darker.

"Let me take care of you Newt. I need you." 

Another snap of the fingers, and it was dark, with a bonfire blazing in the glade.

Newt's heart jumped into his throat. Void Stiles was seated with his back against a log, waiting for Newt.

Without thinking, Newt walked over.

He had thought about that first night in the Glade, when Tommy showed up. In his head, he imagined, over and over, that they had leaned in for a kiss.

It felt like that was supposed to happen. Like it had been destined. It didn't.

Then Teresa came. Then Newt felt like any chance that he had with Tommy had been lost, forever.

But here it was now. 

Newt was getting a second chance. He could have second chances now.

He sat across from Void Stiles, watching how the firelight added color into the boy's skin. The way the shadows danced, highlighting the spray of moles on Tommy's face.

It happened. 

Tommy leaned in, kissing Newt, finally, and Newt gently raised his hand, pulling Tommy closer....

Newt found himself pulling Tommy's shirt off, his hands next tugging at his own clothes. Tommy...Void Stiles....pulled his top off, and leaned in, kissing the bare flesh.

Newt felt the cold breeze blow across his skin, and the heat of the bonfire several feet away. He let his head fall back into the grass, and let his lust finally be satisfied.

 

"How do you do all this?" Newt asked. Time felt like a worthless concept. It could have been hours, or days. He wasn't even sure anymore.

"I am an instrument of the void. I can control it, but I did not create it." 

Newt nodded. "So I'm dead." 

Void Stiles nodded. "You are dead. BUT, there are some amazing perks to that...."

"Wait, if we're ghosts, then how did we have sex that night?"

Void Stiles grinned. "I am hoping we get a few more chances today, as well."

"Well, as 'ghosts', as you put it, we are "real" here." Void Stiles raised his hands, using air quotes for his emphasis.

"Outside of the Void, we are almost powerless."

"Almost?"

"Well, we CAN manifest outside of the Void, but it takes a lot of power to do so. Even if you train, and build your power, you will still be more of a ghost there."

Newt had already begun to form a plan.

"And before you even start your wheels spinning, know that you won't be able to even start to cross over."

"Why not?"

"Only focused spirits can do it, and it takes considerable strength to do so. But, there are ways...."

At this Void Stiles stopped, waiting for Newt.

"What ways? What can one do...?

"Well, the majority of the spirits have done so, when they cross over, and find a host."

"A host." 

"You know, a body." 

Newt swallowed his nervousness.

"So, they.....possess.....a person."

Void Stiles nodded.

"It doesn't hurt the person. It's actually kind of fun."

Newt began to think again.

"Its like tuning in to a radio frequency, you're able to hear and see anything they do. Plus, the longer you stay, the more memories you can access."

"So why don't you do this?"

For a second, Void Stiles blinked, almost angrily. 

"I've been trapped here. I was kidnapped, and damaged, and kept here."

"Why?" Newt felt apprehension. 

"A jealous lover. He would rather see me dead than happy." 

Newt lost his focus for a minute. A voice in his head echoed.

"I'm sorry Newt.....I just...."

Newt shook his head.

"....so then I wound up here. So here I am, until someone can free me."

Newt was ashamed that he missed the story. He tried to recover, asking another question.

"So then the guy that did this to you...."

"I'm sorry..." The voice echoed in Newt's head again. "I just don't have those feelings for you. I love you, you're my brother.....but..."

Newt felt his eyes water. Why was he remembering this now?

"....and once that happens, well, I can actually get both of us out of this Void. I can give us our bodies. We'll even be immortal."

Immortal.

Newt felt nervous at the thought of the offer. 

Immortal, with his own body. He could find the others.

But would they want him?

No. The real question was, could he live with the knowledge that he could not be with his Tommy anymore?

Newt thought on that for many minutes. He loved Tommy. He wanted Tommy, to be his lover, his partner, his mate. That could never happen.

But the others? Minho, Gally, Aris, Harriet, Sonya. Even Jorge, he had developed a great friendship with him, even Brenda.

Well, he tolerated Brenda. He could see early on that she had her eyes on Thomas.

Tommy.

She had been the one responsible for getting the serum to him. He heard it over the speaker of the communicator when Thomas

Tommy.

Had been trying to carry him.

(Come on Newt.....)

Even after Newt had begged Tommy to leave him. To save himself.

Minho was supposed to bring the serum. Not Brenda. He was faster than she was, why hadn't HE been the one to bring the serum?

Void Stiles let his fingers brush Newt's neck.

"Will you help me?" 

Newt closed his eyes. He could still be friends. He could live with being Tommy's friend again.

If Tommy was with Brenda, well, Newt could go live in a hut on the hill. He just wanted his friends back. He wanted his life back.

Void Stiles's hands moved softly under Newt's shirt, teasing his slim, lean muscles. A thumb brushed his nipple, causing it to stiffen, and a moan to escape his lips.

"Yes." He replied breathlessly. "Yes...I'll help you. If you help me get back....ughh....to my friends...."

From behind him, Void Stiles smiled, satisfied. 

"I need you babe..." He kissed Newt's neck, pulling the Brit's shirt off, and letting his hands sink below Newt's waistline.

"I want you...we're gonna rule the world together."

Newt let his head fall back on Void Stiles's shoulder. 

"Make me immortal."


	3. We're In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt learns about his power and limitations in the Void.  
> He even takes his first steps outside the Void.
> 
>  
> 
> Void Stiles is a help. Kinda. 
> 
> Some light smut, and suggestive stuffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Purposes of This Fic:  
> **Thomas is straight  
> **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
> **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
> **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
>  
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

Newt was frowning. 

"Everything is energy." Void Stiles said from behind his pupil.

Newt closed his eyes and focused. He was trying to blow a piece of paper off a table.

"Why is this so bloody hard?!" Newt growled.

"Because you're making it hard." Void Stiles replied coldly.

Newt huffed a breath which blew a tuft of hair that had fallen in front of his face.

"Do it again."

Newt focused his mind. Collect the energy. Focus the energy. Direct the energy. Use the energy.

Why wasn't it happening??

 

Void Stiles let out a growl, and shoved Newt aside. He waved his hand, and the paper flew off the table.

The table also flew several feet into the air.

"Intent!" He screamed at the Brit. "Intent! Intent! Intent!"

"How many times do I have to explain it to you, Newt. You have to do more than 'want' it to move, you have to understand that it MUST be moved by you."

"I kno...."

"It's not like you have a lot of shit to do today. Get it together, or you're never going to get out of this void."

Void Stiles seethed as the Brit got up.

"You should use anger. A good DEEP anger will make anything move."

 

Void Stiles spent all of his time training Newt. 

The training was going poorly, as Newt was something of a weak student. Not weak as he didn't try, but weak because he refused to give into anger immediately.

 

"Do it again." Void Stiles stretched his hand out. The table moved back into place, the paper landing on top.

"Emotion is what you use to direct and use the energy." Void Stiles coached.

Newt stood a few feet from the table. Hand outstretched, fingers opened. He tried to focus once again.

He focused on the paper. The paper sparked some small memory of his

(Dear Tommy...)

from a dark area of his brain. He was trying 

(This is the first letter I can remember)

to remember

(writing)

something in his past, he saw fingers, holding a pencil

(obviously)

and the paper

(I don't remember if I ever)

writing on the paper, by candlelight.

(Don't be a twat about it)

for him.

For the one that broke his heart.

For the one that worried about HER

And was SHE going to get hurt, and was SHE doing okay, and was SHE going to be SAFE from all that was going to happen

When it was HER fault Minho was being held by WKCD, and SHE was the one that BETRAYED them, and SHE was the one that figured out too late that Tommy...

Tommy didn't even try, did he? Tommy didn't try to save Newt at all? DID HE?

When HE was the one that was infected. Dying. Trying to protect his Tommy, and all TOMMY cared about was HER.

(DON'T LIE TO ME!!)

The paper flew off the table, and the table landed at least five feet away.

Newt was shaking. 

"Good boy." Void Stiles cooed.

 

Over and over, Newt practiced his focus, his intent. 

"Good work. Now with this."

Void Stiles placed a stack of checker pieces on the table. 

So far, Newt had been successful with the paper, small objects, and even knocking the table over.

"I want you to move the top piece, leaving the other pieces standing."

"Like, lift it?"

"Yes, but leaving the rest standing."

Newt had gotten even better with his focus, once he learned how to control his anger.

"Shit." Newt grumbled as the stack fell. 

Void Stiles caught all the pieces in mid-air, and levitated them all back into a stack.

"Again."

 

It took numerous tries, and several fits of focusing his feelings, but he did it. He was able to lift, separate, and move the pieces in mid-air.

Void Stiles watched as Newt succeeded in each trial. During this one, he had some fun.

As Newt focused on the stack, he felt his fly being pulled down, slowly.

"Keep focused." Void Stiles scolded as Newt's pieces wavered in the air. 

Newt closed his eyes, and tried to keep his focus, while Void Stiles slid his hand into Newt's open fly.

"Keep focused." 

Newt whimpered as Void Stiles stroked him to hardness.

"Keep focused." 

Void Stiles's fingers were nimble, and skilled, and he quickly brought Newt to full erection in seconds.

Newt's breath caught as he tried to focus, while his body automatically bucked his hips into his teacher's hand.

"Keep focused." 

Void Stiles watched as the pieces in the air wobbled, but stayed up.

"Sometimes, you will need to split your focus, needing to tend to two things at once."

He began to stroke Newt, while watching the Brit's eyes focus, and glaze over, and re-focus."

"It's not fair." Newt grunted, trying to keep his knees from buckling from the sensations.

"Life isn't fair. The afterlife isn't fair. Nothing is fair. Stay. Focused."

Void Stiles twisted his hand, and roughly slapped Newt's erection. 

Newt howled in pain, and the chips started to fall, but he caught them all before they hit the ground, keeping them in the air. He glared angrily at Void Stiles.

"You prick."

The pieces flew through the air, and all collided with the back of Void Stiles's head.

"Oh, really? You want to play now?" Void Stiles grinned manically.

The table flew at a fast speed toward Newt's head, but it stopped abruptly in mid-air. 

Newt had his eyes closed, but cracked them open to see if he had done it. He smiled. The table was inches from his hand.

Void Stiles attempted to push the table further into Newt, but the Brit kept it at bay.

"Good." Void Stiles dropped his hand, and the table fell, with a clatter, to the floor.

He walked over to Newt. 

"How did you do that?" He asked, smugly.

"I.....focused...."

Void Stiles slapped Newt.

"What did you use."

"I....I used my emotions." 

"Which ones?"

"Anger.....Fear....."

"Good. Those are the strongest ones." He pointed at Newt for emphasis.

Newt's breath hitched, and he groped for his fly, trying to pull it up.

Void Stiles slapped Newt's hand away. 

"You're almost ready. Your strength is formidable now."

He pulled Newt close to him. Void Stiles's eyes seemed ringed with madness, with excitement. He teased Newt with a kiss, and bit the blond's lip.

Newt gasped, but did not pull away, like he had before. He leaned into the kiss, and twisted his hands in Void Stiles's thick black hair.

He could feel his own eyes reflecting a bit of their new found power back at their teacher.

 

"Now, we move on to the next step."

 

A sea of humanity swirled around them.

 

Void Stiles had taken Newt to another area of the void. It looked like an immense sea, and floating within the bodies of people, old and young, men and women.

"This is the portal." Void Stiles spoke. 

"It can give you access to people in the world, and you grab the one you want, possess them, and boom. You're in the world."

"I don't see anyone I know."

"You wouldn't, and I haven't quite figured out why."

"So why can I see these people?" 

"Because I want you to see them. I control the void, remember?"

With that, Void Stiles turned, and snapped his fingers. The people disappeared, but the sea still swirled. 

Newt could hear the voices, snippets of conversations happening around them. It thrilled, and terrified him, all at the same time.

"How....how do I....."

"Two ways." Void Stiles snapped his fingers, and the people re-appeared.

"You can either jump into a person while awake, or the other option, while they sleep."

"Is there a difference?"

"Well, if you do it while they sleep, you don't control them until they wake, but you can access their memories until they do. Think of it like studying before a test."

He walked over to Newt.

"The other way, the easiest way, is to do it while they are awake, and emotional. The more emotional they are, the easier to possess."

"Why?"

"Think about it, Newt. Have you ever been so upset that you lose your reason? That's the time. Why do you think people snap, and murder someone, then come to their senses?"

Newt paused. He didn't know if he'd ever been that pissed before

(DON'T LIE TO ME)

but he could easily see how it would be simple to lose ones self

(TAKE IT! JUST TAKE IT!)

and then realize that they felt like they were someone else, blame it on

(I guess I can't hide this anymore)

something that isn't them. It made sense, right?

"Do they know they're being possessed?"

"Never." Void Stiles smirked.

"Humans never think of anything, or anyone other than themselves. They never realize when a spirit is using their vessel."

"Can they tell, if I'm in there?"

"Not always. They only realize that someone was inside of them once in a while. They just get this odd feeling, they call it deja vu."

Newt paused. He was trying to remember if he'd ever had that feeling.

"Are there any downsides for me?"

"Not really." Void Stiles answered quickly.

 

"Him." Void Stiles pointed to a young boy, maybe 8 years old.

"We'll start simple." 

"Are you sure.... he's...." 

"It doesn't matter how old, or young they are." Void Stiles's eyes seemed to glow.

"Male, female, and everything in between. Man, or monster. Everyone is a vessel. The stronger you are, the easier it is. The weaker they are, twice as easy."

Newt looked at the boy, with auburn hair, and a gap between his teeth. 

"Nothing will happen to him. Unless you make something happen to him." 

"How do I.....get....in there...?"

"Focus your energy. Look for his emotion. Look for what he feels. Match it."

The boy was happy. He was deliriously happy. Newt felt his heart break a little. He didn't know if he'd ever been that happy, ever.

Newt thought back into his past...as far as he could remember, nothing had ever made him that happy

(Newt....)

before, and he doubted

(what's that?)

that there was a moment in his past

(in that tank?)

where he felt at all happy,

(AAAGGGHHHH!)

much less so full of giddy joy

(HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Tommy!! What was that??)

(Tommy! HeeHeeHee!)

 

He was running in a field now, holding something.....a string....a....kite?

Newt felt a sensation unlike he had ever felt before. Running, unfettered, carefree. 

He felt a joy that had never once been in his body. Not even in his happiest moments with Tommy...

Not that he'd had many.

But this...he could get used to this.

"Come on Sam!" a woman's voice called to him.

He turned around, and saw in the distance, a beautiful blonde woman, waving to him.

Gripping his kite, he ran toward her as fast as his little legs would carry him. 

A tall, ruddy, redheaded man ran to him and scooped him up into his arms, swinging him around, laughing. 

Newt let laughter ring out from him. As if it were buried in his lungs for years. 

The man held him up, and spun him around. 

"Carl, you're going to make him sick." 

"Awwww..... he's just a boy. Let him be a boy." 

The woman plucked a ripe strawberry from a bowl and gave it to Newt. He took it with chubby, happy fingers, and brought it to his lips.

The taste was incredible. 

Newt ate fried chicken, and potato salad, fresh fruit, and drank sweet lemonade sitting on a blanket on the beach. The woman held him close, and the man sat him on his shoulders, and they looked out at an endless sea.

"And once he finishes, he'll go to university, and he'll study, and the world can be his for the taking, and he'll do such wonderful things."

Newt curled up to his parents, safe in a home, listening to them talk.

He fell asleep contented.

 

Newt found himself on the floor of the void, unable to move, but sobbing. 

Was that what his life was like before the world went to shit all those years ago? Did he have parents like that? 

Did he have a family? Brothers and Sisters? What was his mother's name? Why couldn't he remember his father?

Newt wailed, unable to find any memories, unable to remember his past, his name, anything. He felt like a blank slate.

 

"Overwhelming, huh?" Void Stiles asked.

"I can't move." Newt gasped as he cried.

"I know. That's a drawback, the longer you're in a body, the more worn out you are when you get back."

He crouched next to Newt.

"Be careful, if you stay too long, you run the risk of burning out."

"Burning out?"

"You can stay too long, and your energy will fade. Then," Void Stiles held up a thumb, which was suddenly on fire. "Poof" He blew his thumb out.

Newt shivered at the visual. He shivered at the feel of the hem of his shirt being lifted.

"How long will I be like this?"

"Long enough." Void Stiles leaned in, and kissed Newt's exposed belly. 

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you're entertained." Void Stiles said, stripping Newt out of his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is going to get very smutty.  
> I've actually got a good idea of where I'm taking this. I'm excited to see if I have what it takes to get it there.
> 
>  
> 
> If I got things wrong, it's an AU, just go with it.
> 
> Let me know what you thought in comments. Consider them like the change you put in a street buskers hat/guitar case.


	4. Pilgrimage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt plays with possession, and finds himself inside a tight spot.
> 
> Sterek sex ahead. 
> 
> IF that's not your thing, skip this chapter.
> 
> If it is, enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In This Fic:  
> **Thomas is straight  
> **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
> **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
> **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
> (<\---Anything between these are Newt's memories--->)
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

"There." Void Stiles pointed to a sleeping form in the distance. The ghostly forms in the sea seemed to evaporate as Newt closed in, going toward the form.

 

The guy was a hunk, hairy, muscular, broad chested. His strong jaw alone made Newt's heart flutter.

He could look like that. Shit, he would enjoy the hell out of looking like that.

"Think you can do it?"

"Yes." Newt replied breathlessly.

"When you get in there, I need you find something for me. Can you do that?

"What am I looking for?"

Void Stiles drew a shape in the air. The item materialized, giving Newt the size, and shape of what he was looking for.

"It's beautiful."

"It's mine." Void Stiles growled. "They took it from me, and it belongs to me. I'm counting on you."

He pulled Newt close to him, brushing the honey blonde strands back, and speaking softly. "I'm counting on you to help me. Please." He tiled his head, brushing his lips to Newt's.

"And remember, I've taught you well. You can do all the naughty things you want, using their bodies. Just bring me back that box."

 

Newt turned, and focused on the form of the sleeping hunk.

He focused, like Void Stiles taught him. Within seconds 

(or minutes, what is time anymore, hermano?)

Newt found himself floating, and soon, a new kind of darkness enveloped him. 

 

Newt was swimming in a dark sea, an actual body of water, with mists filled with monsters, and in the distance, a wooded shore, bathed in light.

He swam lazily to the shore, and rose up from the water, wet and a mess. He walked past the wood, down a forest path, and came to the front of a high school.

Standing in front of the buildings, he saw the sign bearing the name: "BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL"

A bell rang, and teenagers were everywhere. 

He saw the group of them walking, a group of handsome guys, virile and strong. 

Then there was one. Slender, and pale. A shock of dark brown hair crowning his head. Void Stiles.

No.

(The last name I can remember being called is Stiles)

Stiles.

He looked like Tommy. But a lot cuter. A glint of mischief played in his eyes, as the looked at Newt. 

The teen broke from his pack, and walked over to where Newt was standing. Newt felt nervous as the boy approached, never breaking his eye contact.  
Stiles bit his lip and bat his long lashes, flirting shamelessly.

Newt smiled, and blushed at the sight. Stiles was in front oh him, smiling. 

"What are you smiling at, Sourwolf?"

Newt stared into his eyes. The sunlight colored the flecks of amber in the whiskey pools. 

"So are you gonna kiss me, or not?" He leaned in, "Mr. Big. Bad. Wolf." 

Stiles leaned in over the sign, moving a little closer with each of the last four words.

Newt felt weak in this guy's presence. He was aware that his cock was as hard as granite.

 

A faint voice seemed to echo from the sign.

"Here."

"Here."

"HERE."

Newt looked up past the sign, and was face to face with a hideous creature. Wrapped in bandages, with a mouth full of rotting teeth.

"Here." 

The beast was gone, but his voice echoed in Newts head.

 

He woke up, slowly, in a large bed. He stretched the new body he was housed in, feeling all the nuances of his flesh. 

The arms were wider, and more muscular, the hands maybe a bit thicker, but with shorter fingers. He made a large fist, opening and closing his hand.

He flexed his muscles, admiring the size of his biceps. His chest was much fuller, the muscled pecs pressed the skin, which was dusted with hair.   
And he was hairy, everywhere!

Where his own body had it in patches, Newt was surprised to find this new body was covered in hair. He reached his hands beneath his body, exploring his hairy ass.

He sat up in his bed, in the empty room, feeling a little sad. Why was he always alone?

Well, there was a mirror there, and Newt couldn't resist looking at his reflection. Or, the reflection of his new body. He was taller, maybe about the half a foot.

He took a few minutes, posing, checking his body out at every angle. He felt the heaviness of his cock and balls. Newt had nothing to be ashamed of, but this guy, geez.

Newt watched as his new cock filled with blood, standing out from his body, almost like a flagpole. His heavy testicles shifted in their furry sack. 

He ran his hand down the length of the thick shaft, watching his body shift and react to the arousal. He felt his chest, running his fingers over his nipples, feeling them stiffen in excitement.

He closed his eyes, and let his hands roam over his body. He was aware of the new smells his body gave off. They were musky and powerful, and he wanted to....

Newt's new nose caught the smell of something else. Something bittersweet, but intoxicating. Like cinnamon, and pine leaves, but something else.

With the quickest reflexes ever, he bounded to the door, which was open a crack, and flung it open, to the shock and embarrassment of the teen on the other side.

"Oh....Shit......Der......I ........ I ........"

Newt's heart vaulted into his throat.

Void Sti...... Stiles.....just Stiles.....

"I'm sorry Der...I was....I just....."

Newt watched as the boy turned as red as the hoody he was wearing. His hair was spiked, and he was sweating...

Taking a cautious sniff, Newt tested the air.

Cinnamon. Pine. Something smokey, musty. 

Arousal.

Something else....like burnt sugar.

He had been watching from the slightly opened door.

Newt raised one of Derek's fingers, and placed it over Stiles' lips. 

The boy was silent. He looked exactly as he did in the dream, 

Eyes wide, pupils blown, staring at all of Newt, who was still naked.

Well, staring at Derek, anyway. A look of both deep longing desire, and complete shock, with a hint of fear.

But the smell of his arousal. It triggered something in Derek's memories, which Newt saw.

 

The image of Stiles, and another boy, in the woods. Standing several feet from him. They're not supposed to be there, but they are there.

In his memory, Derek is seeing Stiles in soft focus, resisting what he senses. What he smells, what he feels.

Stiles is trembling.

Newt runs his finger over Stiles's parted lips. The teen automatically tilts his head, baring the soft white skin of his neck.

Submitting.

Newt feels something in his new body surge with desire. He wants to bite him, hard. Mark him. Claim him.

He pants, holding the animal side of Derek at bay.

Newt dips his nose into Stiles' neck, listening to the boy whimper, the scent of his arousal stronger.

Kisses land on the pale neck, dotted with moles. Newt scrapes the boy with his beard. Instead of a cry of pain, Stiles moans wantonly.

Stiles grabbed Derek's head, and kissed him, practically crying out in lust and joy.

Newt grabbed the boy, picking him up, like a bride, carrying him to the bed, never breaking the kiss.

"Derek..." he gasped as he landed on the dark sheets of the bed. 

"Shhhh." Newt shushed Stiles. He reached down, and pulled the hoody off of Stiles, watching as his shirt came off with it. He revealed a lean pale body, scattered with moles, making Newt salavate.

The smell of both of their arousal was thick in the air. Their scents combined was amazing. It make Newt's new body dizzy with lust.

Stiles knelt on the bed, bringing himself to Derek's chest. He nuzzled the furry pecs, and let his lips trace the erect nub of a nipple.

Newt grunted at the sensations. He looked down at the boy with the tousled hair, looking up at him with those damn whiskey eyes.

 

Tommy.

 

No. Not Tommy.

 

But close enough. He would do. He'd make a good consolation prize. 

He watched as Stiles moved from the bed, to kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Good boy."

The words are out of his mouth before Newt even knows what brings them. 

The words bring a huge smile out of Stiles. He is practically vibrating with excitement. 

Newt realizes, Stiles WANTS to be a good boy. He wants to be a good boy for HIM. His smile telegraphed it to Newt.

 

Inside Derek's memories, he sees flashes of them, together, Derek and Stiles.

Sitting in his Jeep. The tension every single time they are together. A dive in a pool. Collapsed on top of Derek, and a burning combination of embarrassment and arousal as he felt the comfortable weight of the spotted teen on top of him. The way Stiles pretends to ignore Derek, when Derek can clearly smell the want, and need, and lust coming from Stiles. The ways Stiles looks at him when he knows he shouldn't be, blushing when he gets caught.

And now, here he is, kneeling before his crush. Submissive, but eager. His eyes alight with lust, his cock stretching out the front of his pants. His heart thumping so hard, Newt can see it pulse in his chest.

Newt pulsed the muscles in his groin, making his hard cock bob up and down in front of Stiles, who watched eagerly.

"You like that?" His new body carried a deeper, huskier voice, no accent.

"Yes Sir." Stiles replied automatically, looking up at him.

"You want it?"

"Yes Sir." Stiles swallowed nervously. "More than anything, Sir."

A deep rumble started in Derek's gut, and rose through to his lips.

"Show me."

 

Derek woke later, sometime in the night. 

First he was terrified because he didn't think he slept that long. A look at the clock showed it was almost midnight. He laid down for his nap after lunch...

His nose picked up a medley of sharp smells. He looked around, in a slight panic. He was naked, and in bed. He wasn't sure why.

He looked over to the side of his bed, and found Stiles curled there, sleeping, his naked body practically glowing in the light of an almost full moon. 

 

Oh. Shit.

 

Newt carried the box into the Void. He was surprised how easy it was to find it. 

After an intense and sexually satisfying day with Stiles, and the boy's increasingly kinky fetishes, Newt left his lover passed out in a deep sleep.

Newt rose and dressed in some sweats, and went down the stairs to get a drink of water. He left most of his fluids inside Stiles.

After drinking a large glass of water, and a beer he found in the fridge, he looked around at the loft he was occupying. 

The walls were bare, and the place was sparsely furnished, but it felt comfortable enough. 

 

He padded, barefoot, over to a wall, and studied the few photos and trinkets on the shelves. 

He noticed one of a large family, with him in it, no older than a preteen. He noticed the smile that the boy wore. Somewhere in Newt's mind, he tried to imagine his own family. Did they exist in a picture somewhere?

Newt turned to the large windows of the loft. He felt something, an energy.

"Here..."

It sounded like a breeze, rustling dead leaves. It was spring.

"Heeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

Newt felt his body ache, and he doubled over in pain. 

Seconds later, he was running, running on all fours, through the forest. 

Like he was running from the devil.

 

Or maybe to one. 

He stood, naked, in front the sign from his dream, the shadows playing tag with each other. He looked around, searching for the frightening specter from his earlier dream.

The sign stood, hip level, concrete and brick. Scanning through his memories, Newt tried to find the significance of the sign, or at least a way in to this.

"Open" a voice in the darkness whispered. 

Goosebumps bloomed all over Derek's skin.

With minimal fuss, he accessed the entrance to the vault, and went inside. 

 

The shelves were heavy with objects, trinkets, and minutiae. Inside of all of this, he located a familiar smell.

"Stiles."

Newt walked over to one of the shelves, and underneath a low shelf, almost behind it, was a box. Inside, he found various items.

An old orange and blue striped shirt. A jersey with the number 24 on it. At the bottom of the box, he finds it.

The box feels oddly heavy in his hands. As if a box so small should not feel so full and heavy.

Deceptive. 

 

Somehow he finds his way back to his loft. He followed the scent of his lover, still asleep in bed. 

He stares at the sleeping form in his bed, hungrily looking at the smooth alabaster skin, exposed in the moonlight. 

The way the freckles and moles on his body create a map of sorts. He wants him again.

Were it not for the feeling tired. 

Shit.

Newt realizes that he has no idea how to get back into the void. The last time he went back, he had no control. He was just back there.

Now, he felt like he could get back, if he knew how.

 

Newt stood in front of the mirror, staring at Derek's naked form, holding the box. 

He closed his eyes, and visualized the void. The sea of souls. Void Stiles. Newt gripped the box in his hands.

 

"You got it!" Void Stiles exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah. Wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"The possession helped?"

"Yeah, it was kinda weird. I was able to figure everything out, almost like I was this person, Derek."

Void Stiles nodded.

"Did you have a little fun?" 

Newt blushed. Did ghosts blush? He certainly felt heat in his cheeks.

"Well that says it all." Void Stiles teased.

Newt walked over and handed the box to Void Stiles, who flinched a bit.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I think we need to explore your power a bit."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and I think I know the perfect practice."

 

Newt stared, focusing on the box.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You seemed very adamant about getting this back."

"Yeah, but I think you need to do this."

Newt continued to focus his power. The box remained undisturbed. 

"Find the energy. It's going to take more to do this, so make it an energy that you can feel, something strong."

Void Stiles growled these last words. Newt was positive he was referring to anger, again. Find a strong energy, a strong current.

All Newt was able to access were rivulets. 

"You know, you might just be too worn out from your trip over."

"No." Newt shook his head. "I can do it."

Newt thought about that for a minute. About how he was so worn the first time he possessed, and now, he was hardly winded (provided ghosts breathed).

Did ghosts breathe?

Newt stood in place for what felt like forever. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tommy...ummm...Stiles....

 

The way the boy looked up at him eagerly, opening this pretty cupid's bow of a mouth. His pink tongue creeping out to lick the mushroom shaped cockhead, gently.

It was such a sweet image, Newt felt the lust swell inside him from the memory. 

Newt conjured up the visuals of his new muscular body, dominating the teen, pulling him roughly by the hair, and tossing him to the bed, where the boy looked up at him in lust and surrender. The way Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest, exposing the tight slit of his pucker. 

Newt felt his head spin, thinking of the way the teen coyly coaxed him over...

"Oh Derek, what big eyes you have..."

The way his body flushed pink as Derek approached him...

"And Derek, what a big mouth you have....."

The way Stiles gasped, as he was pulled to the edge of the bed, Newt using his new tongue to lick and suck the offering before him. The happy hum in his mouth as he found his lover clean, and responsive.

Newt's focus narrowed as his breathing began to come fast.

"Ohh...Oh Derek...." 

Stiles was bent in half, his knees on either side of his ears. He was looking up, looking into Derek's olive green eyes, while the older man swirled his tongue inside of Stiles, stopping the attack only to use his tongue like a cock in Stiles's ass.

"Derek....please....." Stiles tongue crept out of his mouth as a long string of precome leaked from his over excited cock toward his mouth. 

Newt watched through Derek's eyes as Stiles wantonly captured the strand in his mouth. 

A deep growl rose from Derek's body, his leaking cock pressed up against Stiles back as he kept him in position.

Stiles panted. "Oh Derek....what a big, hard, thick cock you have..."

 

Newt found he was now levitating the box. It was surrounded by a bright blue light. He was so focused, he hadn't even been paying attention.

"Keep it up babe." 

"Keep it in me Der."

Newt's memories played in his head.

"Keep it up Der. Yeah. Fuck me." Stiles was panting, driven into the bed by the muscled mass above him, legs locked tight around the older man's waist. 

He had been taking Derek's dick all afternoon. Newt was shocked he was still able to stand it. He'd already left 3 loads inside Stiles by this point.

Stiles took charge of his pounding, and moved them around, so that he was riding Derek. His pale body flushed with blood. His hair matted to his head, and his armpits damp and hair twisted. 

Newt found the sight of that incredibly sexy.

Stiles reached behind himself, still sitting with Derek buried at least eight inches inside him, and pulled his zip hoody on. The red hood on his head, he leaned over and put his hands on the hairy muscled pecs of his lover.

"Yeah....you like that, don't you?" Stiles growled, clearly relishing the control he was in now. "You like fucking me? Wanna breed my hole? Huh Daddy?"

Newt was impressed at the mouth on this kid.

"Yeah, Der. Breed me. Pup me. I wanna be your little red.... yeah.... your little red riding whore.... all yours Derek. Fucking make me yours."

Newt used his new hands to hold his new boy by the hips, steadying him for yet another load. 

 

Newt could almost feel the box in his hand. The weight was incredible. Was it that heavy when he found it? When he took it?

The round box felt so powerful, but Newt felt even more powerful. He felt like he could do anything.

 

"Do it. Do it Der. You can do anything you want to me." Stiles gasped as his hips lifted up and down, slamming himself onto Derek.

Through the veil of Derek's eyes, he pictured Tommy, riding him the way Stiles was doing now. It was easy enough since they looked alike. Would Tommy lose himself in lust this way with him? 

Newt felt his body tensing again. He felt the telltale sign of his balls pulling up in their sack, tight to the base of his cock.

Stiles moved his hands down Derek's sweaty pecs, and moved his head down so that his lips were close to Derek's ear, and his ass was stuffed with Derek's pistoning cock.

"Derek....I ..... I fucking love you Derek Hale."

Then everything exploded.

 

When Newt came to, his body was on the floor. He was exhausted, and covered in a fine, white, ashy powder. His body was limp with exhaustion, but it still somehow hummed with energy.

His head ached a bit, but he felt okay. He found that he was still able to remember things that had just happened. Also there was

(We started this together)

other things that he was able to recall

(might as well)

from before

(KILL ME TOMMY) 

things had happened. They felt like they happened to someone else

(Rose took my nose)

but Newt could see 

(Starting tomorrow)

things were feeling clearer, better.

(you're a runner)

 

Newt rolled over to get up, and heard an evil chuckle from over him. He looked up to see Void Stiles, standing tall, and flexing his hands, as if he were testing his body. 

He looked different, a little more real. If that made sense. The cold darkness of his eyes was tinged with fire.

"Good boy. I knew you had it in you, you sexy bitch." Void Stiles half sneered, half smiled.

 

Newt looked around the Void. 

Fragments of the box were everywhere. He had done it.

 

He laid his head on the ground and closed his eyes, searching for more memories.


	5. Somewhat Damaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat. A new adventure. A new body. 
> 
> Same old Void Stiles.
> 
> Some naughtiness, violence, homophobic language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In This Fic:  
>  **Thomas is straight  
>  **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
>  **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
>  **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
> (<\---Anything between these are Newt's memories--->)
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

Newt felt the chill, before he heard the voice.

"Newt."

A woman's voice.

"Newt?"

Almost a whisper in the wind, but he heard it.

"Newt."

He turned, facing the direction the voice came.

"Newt."

A light began to bloom from the direction, and grew in diameter. He approached it cautiously.

"Newt?"

The light grew brighter, and seemed to beckon to him. He found himself wandering aimlessly to it.

For a split second Newt had an image of the Glade.

"NEWT! STOP!"

Newt felt himself be jerked back by a powerful force, which whipped him through the air. In a second, he was running, with Void Stiles clutching his hand.

"RUN NEWT, RUN!" 

Void Stiles was in a full panic, and that only made Newt pump his legs harder. 

 

When they came to a stop, Newt looked behind them. No light. No voice, nothing.

Void Stiles was in a full panic. Eyes wide, nostrils flared. Newt had never seen him look so terrified.

"Did you hear any voices?" 

Newt felt a chill was over him. 

"Yes. A woman's. She was calling for me."

Void Stiles shook his head. 

"If you see that light, run." 

He turned and began to walk away, still shaken.

"Why? What was that? What was that voice?" Newt frowned, and chased after Void Stiles.

"It's the end."

"What's the end?" Newt paused mid-step.

"For you. For us. For the void. If you join with that light, then you cease." 

Void Stiles's eyes darkened with worry, and Newt could actually see fear in them.

"If you join with that light, it all ends. You get nothing more of this. No immortality. No powers. No existence here."

Newt swallowed nervously.

"Okay." His voice was just above a whisper. "Okay. I'll stay away from it."

Void Stiles continued to walk, and faded into the void, leaving Newt to wonder.

What was strong enough to erase death?

 

Newt continued to work on his possessions. He got very good at it, to his surprise. He marveled at the bodies he inhabited, and the memories they carried.

So little could be recalled from his own life, that Newt began to look forward to these jumps, creating memories of his own. A new life he could call on to remember.

 

Newt grew stronger each day, testing his powers when he could. 

Void Stiles coached him to his potential.

 

"Okay, try it again."

Newt closed his eyes, and focused. 

He created a vague shape before him. 

A table. A vase. A rose.

They were clearer than the last attempt.

 

"Remember, for you to create a believable glamour, you have to focus on the details. The more the detail, the more real the visual."

Newt sighed. He tried to remember how a rose looked. They never had use for them in the Glade, and he'd only really seen one once.

(Rose took my nose I suppose)

In the den, as Lawrence trimmed them, while decomposing.

Newt shuddered.

He tried again, focusing on the way he remembered the petals, slightly opened in their bud. The thick green stem holding it aloft. The thorns, sharp and curved.

The rose appeared, in a glass vase.

"Good. Now make it disappear."

Newt focused on the rose, wondering how he should do that. He knew better than to ask Void Stiles, who would likely smack Newt in the head for asking such a silly question.

With a thought, Newt made the flower bloom more. It bloomed until it molted, all the petals falling.

"Brilliant." Void Stiles mumbled from behind him.

Newt watched as the petals fell, and the stem wilted, dropping dead under the vase. 

"Keep going Newt. Remember, you can make them see anything. You can create anything."

Newt focused on the dead petals, the wilted stem. A visual of the scorch flashed before his eyes. 

With a blink, he turned the remains of the rose to ash, and watched as he made it blow away into the air.

 

Newt had gotten well enough to where he was able to conjure images of monsters. He got a perverse thrill from what he could accomplish.

As with possession, the process was helped by emotion, and more and more, Newt found himself relying on his anger to create fast results.

"Good baby." Void Stiles ran his long pale fingers up Newt's chest. 

"You glamour is strong. Pretty soon, you'll be able to make people see things you want them to see, make them think they are real."

Newt frowned. 

"You did that with me when I first got here." 

It wasn't a question.

"I had to create a way for you to understand what was going on."

Newt looked at Void Stiles skeptically.

"I never used it to trick you. I never showed you anything that was a lie. As I recall, I helped you get really comfortable that first night."

Void Stiles moved closer, brushing his lips against Newt's cheek, then ear, before moving down to his neck.

Newt turned away, and smirked.

"You don't get off that easy."

"Nope. I like to work at it." Void Stiles pulled Newt back, kissing him roughly. He slid his hands down Newt's back, grabbing his ass roughly. A hand slipped down the blondes waistband.

"Stop...." Newt gasped.

Void Stiles let his fingers brush Newt's tight ring of muscle.

The Brit gasped.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Void Stiles continued to rub and tease the entrance.

"ugh..." Newt grunted as Void Stiles eased a finger inside him.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Newt was trying to fight his lust. All he could visualize was Stiles, and through Stiles, he thought of Tommy, how close he had been....

"Do. You. Want. Me. To. Stop?" 

Void Stiles punctuated each word with a sliding digit into Newt.

"No...." Newt whispered, hanging on to Void Stiles.

"What was that?" 

"Don't stop." Newt panted as Void Stiles slid his fingers out, then turned around.

"No!" Newt whined as his lover walked away.

Void Stiles turned and in the flick of a wrist, ripped Newt's pants off, and levitated him above the floor, spreading his long, pale legs.

He pulled Newt back toward him in mid-air, and slid his fingers back inside the willing bottom, hitting the boys prostate. He watched in satisfaction as Newt orgasmed from his touch.

Void Stiles loved how easily he could play with his new toy.

 

Newt ran everywhere.

 

Newt remembered the maze. Running with tension in his legs and shoulders. Making maps, trying to remember where everything was, and how to get back.

The walls would blur by him, flashes of green ivy, and gray stone walls. 

Running in the woods of Beacon Hills was more peaceful than that.

Running in the streets of Los Angeles was fun.

Running in the hills of the countryside of France was peaceful.

Running was a great freedom. Newt loved it.

 

After having used Newt's power to demolish the box, Void Stiles was much happier. 

He disappeared from the Void often, and usually came back in grand moods. 

True to his word, Void Stiles was able to get Newt his body, by way of possession. 

 

"Are you bloody serious?" Newt asked incredulously, staring around their surroundings. 

They were standing in a desert, waiting for someone.

"How do you even know this is going to work?" 

"It'll work, trust me. I've seen this story happen time and again."

"How the bloody Hell do you even know this guy?"

"I told you, Newt. I'm a thousand years old. I've met plenty of people over the years. Decades. Century, really."

Void Stiles rose from the crouch he had been in, and walked to the edge of a rust colored butte, overlooking a river.

"And I'll tell you time, and time, and time again. You see the world runs in a circle. You see the same people, just in different bodies."

The dark haired boy scanned the horizon. Even in the breeze, the entire world seemed wrapped in silence.

"Everyone comes from somewhere. If you go far back enough, you see yourself, over and over again."

Newt walked to the edge of the butte, and took in the landscape. The similarity to the scorch caused a chill to run up his spine.

 

"There."

Void Stiles pointed at a lone horse carrying a slender, young rider. 

"Him. All you gotta do, is stick to the plan."

"And I won't.....die....will I?"

"Nothing can kill you." Void Stiles looked over at him. "Except for me."

Newt looked over at his mentor, his lover, his friend.

"Okay. Let's do this."

 

Newt was wrapped in the dark again. This time, he was fully aware of what was happening. 

He was also aware of the irony.

The knife had hurt. He wondered if he knew it hurt when.... 

No. Best not to think of that now.

The intention had been noble, a fight to the end. 

He never even had a start. 

He remembered feeling this way before. Losing Minho. Not being able to save Tommy. Alby. Winston. Chuck.

 

He heard a scraping from outside. 

The lid of the coffin flew off and light flooded Newt's eyes. 

"Well, did we have a nice nap?" 

Newt scrambled out of the box.

"Bloody hell." 

 

The reflection that stared back at him was uncanny, if a bit hairy.

Standing naked in the mirror, watching as Void Stiles stood behind him, kissing his neck and shoulder.

The body was almost identical to his. The hair had been longer, and he had this ridiculous moustache, but the eyes, the nose, the lips. All the same.

The frame of the body was the same. Long slender, but powerful legs, a smooth, tightly muscled chest, capped with pinkish brown nipples.

The soft, tight belly with dark brown trail of hair starting below his navel, and fanning down to a bush of pubic hair. A large cock arced up and out of that bush, with a pink head, sheathed in a sleeve of skin.

Void Stiles was having a lot of fun with that right now.

"Gotta make sure that all the parts are working." he said, gripping the erection in front of Newt. 

Newt bit his lip, stifling a moan. 

"Shhhh." Void Stiles chided. "Someone might hear us."

 

After making the body grab, they jumped ahead a hundred years or so, and found an abandoned house. 

It was in some sort of polished suburb in a quaint town.

The people talked funny, but Newt could swear that they sounded just like him. 

No matter. 

Newt's first mission was to find a shower. The guy smelled like he hadn't bathed in a hundred years. Newt lifted an arm and caught a whiff of his pits.

Yeah, a shower. Or ten.

Newt stood in the shower, washing the grime off of him. He couldn't remember the last time he showered.

Had to have been.....forever ago....ahead? Ago? When was he?

Stepping out of the shower, he found Void Stiles, nude, and hard.

"Come here baby boy."

 

So they spent the afternoon naked, and wet. 

 

"So how does this work now, since I have a body?" Newt questioned Void Stiles as they walked the streets.

Void Stiles kept his eyes on the passers by, dressed head to toe in their crazy outfits.

They rounded another corner, passing by another street bustling with people, and crazy, loud shops. 

Newt looked up and found a sign that told them they were on Carnaby street.

"Here." Void Stiles grabbed Newt's hand, and ducked out of the street, into an alley.

They were maybe twenty feet into the alley when a voice called out from behind them.

"Alright ya poofs, ya gone far enough."

They turned to find a large, hirsute man with a beanie on his head, and a snarl on his lips.

"What did you call us?" Void Stiles asked, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Ya heard me, ya benders. I watched ya holding hands and such. With your long hair and fancy clothes."

Newt realized that the brute was addressing him.

"Look here mate, we don't wanna have a ruckus over this." Newt found himself speaking freely, more than he had before.

"Nah, nah, I think we do Newtie." Void Stiles's eyes seemed to shine.

He walked up to the blonde, and took his hand. 

"Yah bloody disgusting queers." The brute snapped his fingers, and a few more brutes seemed to appear from nowhere in the alley.

"Oooh. What fun." Void Stiles was practically vibrating. 

"Are you all going to take turns fucking us?" 

The brute sneered, seething with anger.

"Git em fellas."

The gang advanced on the boys. 

Newt's first instinct was to run. The gang of 5 guys were closing in, but before he could react, he saw Void Stiles moving forward, laughing.

 

The gang lay in crumpled piles, dead. The lead brute was gasping, both of his legs shattered from a pipe one of his lackeys had been holding. 

"It's funny, innit it?" Void Stiles chuckled, mocking the brute's accent.

The formerly menacing thug was trying to drag himself away with one good arm, and one arm that was no longer in it's socket.

"See, we were just on our merry way, just trying to find our way back home. We didn't want to be bothered."

Void Stiles now towered over the boy.

"And here you come, just waltzing on in here, jut ready to show us how tough you are."

Newt stood almost paralyzed in the alley. He couldn't believe that Void Stiles had just taken out four armed thugs.

"Just how tough are you, really?"

And now he was going to end their leader.

"Let's just see if my hunch about you is right." 

Void Stiles reached down, and ran his hand over the brute's head. 

The brute stiffened in fear, his eyes wide.

Void Stiles grinned, his eyes shining. 

"Yes. Yes. Of course."

He rose, leaving a weeping, distraught brute.

"I apologize for robbing you of your fuckboys." Void Stiles placed the pipe in the brute's hands.

"Don't worry, you're gonna get some more soon enough."

The sound of sirens echoed in the distance. 

Void Stiles leaned down, frisking the now crying brute. He seized a wad of cash off the guy.

A quick check of the corpses turned up little or no cash, but a few handy weapons.

"Come on bitch." Void Stiles grabbed Newt, and dragged him into the shadows. 

They disappeared into the shadows just as the police arrived.


	6. The Wretched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's fic has LOTS of angst and pain. Newt remembers falling apart, and everything gets deep.
> 
>  
> 
> In This Fic:  
> **Thomas is straight  
> **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
> **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
> **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
>  
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rough one to write, sorry it gets REALLY angsty. 
> 
> I guess I've been in my feels a lot, and this is what happens.

They were back in the void.

"What the bloody Hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"You killed four people, and wounded a fifth..."

"Newt. I didn't get to be a thousand years old without learning to defend myself..."

"That wasn't defending yourself! It wasn't even a fair fight."

"It wasn't a fair fight, it was five against one, and I was all alone. So what if I had to snap a few necks."

"You did more than that."

"If that one guy thought he was going to get away with hitting me, he had another thing coming."

"You ripped his arm out!"

"I did not. I just dislocated it. He'll live."

"Oh yeah, you spared ONE life, how noble."

"Some people don't deserve to live."

"But not everyone deserves to die!"

"And how many people have you killed Newt?"

Newt took a step back. 

"How many Newt? From the Glade? From the Scorch?" In the last city?"

Newt set his jaw sternly. 

"That was different. That was life and death."

"And this wasn't?" 

Newt huffed.

"Do you know what they would have done to you if they had the chance? I protected you Newt."

Void Stiles turned away, angry.

"It would have been nice if you would have done the same for me."

"How? How was I going to protect you?"

"You could have used the damn skills you had been working on."

Void Stiles stalked away, angry. 

Newt felt ashamed, and embarrassed. 

He knew what they had been up against. How the soldiers from WCKD tried to capture them. How they would have done to him what they did to Minho.

What would they have done with him? He wasn't immune.

An uncomfortable feeling washed through Newt. 

What would they have done? 

He wasn't immune, so WCKD couldn't use him.

Would Tommy have come to his rescue? 

I mean, if he wasn't immune, and there was no cure in sight, would Tommy have risked his life? Would he have risked everyone's mouth just to save Newt?

Newt would like to think he would have.

But what if Newt was the one taken? 

Tommy and Newt were close. But Newt knew, seemed to have constantly been reminded, that everyone wanted Tommy. 

And Tommy, in his nature, seemed to be attracted to everyone. 

Everyone except Newt. 

I mean, Tommy seemed to never get his emotions for Teresa sorted out, and THAT pissed Newt off to no end.

Then there was Brenda, who seemed to think that because Teresa was out of the picture, that SHE was going to take Teresa's place.

And Tommy didn't even seem to mind.

He even caught Tommy making eyes at Sonya a few times, and THAT pissed him off uncontrollably in a way that he couldn't understand.

Jealousy.

"Ain't it a bitch?", as Frypan would say.

He missed Fry.

He missed Minho.

He didn't want to, but he missed Tommy.

Newt missed the way the boy came out of sleep, looking rumpled, and fragile, with sleep crust in his eyes, and even missed his morning breath.

The way Tommy would look over at him, and smirk. Almost like he knew what the Brit had been thinking, a shared connection deeper than it was explainable.

There had been one moment, one glorious moment in the time they were planning the train rescue, where they were traveling back from the rendezvous point.

Jorge was driving, and for once, it was just Fry, Tommy, and Newt, and while Fry sat up front with Jorge, Tommy sat in back with Newt. 

On the trip back, Tommy grew tired, and settled down into the seat, and fell asleep with his head on Newt's shoulder.

Newt froze, and held his breath. Tommy was so comfortable, and peaceful. They had so few minutes of either, Newt knew he didn't want to wake the boy sleeping on him.

Well, that may not have been the ONLY reason.

Newt committed to memory the way the fading light colored Tommy's face. The bronze disc in the sky flooded Tommy's face bronze and gold.

The moles, like a constellation, dotting his cheek and neck. The softness of his lips, and long lashes fluttering in sleep. Newt looked on him freely.

For the millionth time, Newt felt his heart swell with Love for his Tommy, and ache for what he knew would never get to be.

It was then and there, he decided that he wanted to write a goodbye letter to Tommy. Newt had a dark premonition he was not going to survive this.

He wanted Tommy to have something he could hold on to, for the times Newt knew he would no longer be there.

 

Newt found himself in tears. It seemed like a million years ago. 

He would give anything to be with his Tommy again. 

But what if he was?

Newt sat in a corner of the void, knees pulled to his chest, and continued to cry.

 

Remembering was painful.

The day Newt told Tommy about his suicide attempt. The day he showed him that he had the flare.

The look of concern on Tommy's face both made Newt's heart bloom and whither all at once. If only...

Newt brushed a tear away, and rushed past Thomas.

"Newt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Newt huffed.

"Nothing."

"Right, nothing. Jus' as I said." Newt snapped, again. He could feel the flare coursing painfully inside him. 

Thomas pulled back, shocked.

"Newt." 

Thomas boldly stood his ground, and took a few steps toward Newt.

"Just bloody go away Thomas!" Newt yelled.

Thomas, shocked, backed away. Newt had never spoken to him like this before. It hurt Thomas's heart.

"No." 

Newt turned surprised. 

"No Newt, not until you tell me what the hell that was back there."

"What was wot?"

"You shoving me against the wall like that."

Newt's eyes brimmed with tears again. He didn't think Thomas was this thick. This dumb. 

"Really?" Newt replied with the sarcasm and sass usually dished out by Minho.

Minho. Damn. That's who was important here. Who they were fighting for. Not Newt. Never Newt. 

And for once, Newt was pissed off that he was again being pushed aside for someone else.

"I already told you Tommy. I have the bloody flare, and I lost my temper, and I for the life of me can't understand why SHE is so much more important."

Newt turned, his eyes clear, and rounded on Thomas. 

"And for the life of me, I don't know why you put so much concern for the people who couldn't give a shuck about you instead of the people who would DIE for you..."

In a second, Thomas realized.

"You're in love with me, aren't you."

It wasn't a question.

Newt felt his eyes water, and his anger rose again.

"That's none of your concern."

"If you're in love with me, Newt, I think is."

"So what if I am?" Newt growled and turned away, his heart hammering in his chest.

"So what if I am in love with you, you bloody git?" 

"For how long?"

"Long enough." Newt turned away. "Long enough to know that I'm a fool for doing so."

Thomas flushed, and looked at the floor. Newt bit his lip, a tear rolling down his cheek.

He had already said too much, but it was out now, and Newt found himself unable to hold back. 

"From the minute you showed up in the Glade....I.... I guess I just thought I saw somethin' about you that made me want..."

Thomas looked at the blonde, who was starting to shake. Thomas couldn't move.

"It was too much Tommy. Being there with all of the guys. Knowing I was the only one....like me....even Minho wasn't..... and you would think, with the shirts, and the hair..."

A rare smile broke through Newt's pain, causing a tear to form in Tommy's eye. 

"I know everyone feels alone. But Tommy, you can't imagine being alone in a place where you're supposed to be at home, with others in your same situation."

"And here I am, thinking if we can't get out, maybe I could have someone help me deal with this all. I thought it was you. It felt like it should have been you."

Newt took a deep breath, and exhaled, feeling like he was under control of his emotions again.

"Silly me. Right? Silly Newt the poof, looking for shit that isn't there, right?" Newt attempted a laugh, that sounded more like a sob.

The sob turned into a laugh, then back into a sob. 

"I mean, I'm clearly cracked. I even thought, Tommy, I even had a dream about you, and me, and we were kids. And we were in this stupid hospital thing, and we were all stupid and young."

Newt's smile turned into a grimace. "Like even bloody Teresa was there, and even then, you were in shucking love with her, as a kid."

Thomas began to feel very unwell.

"And here I am, this silly little faggot, with a crush on his best friend. Can you IMAGINE anything more pathetic?"

Newt's grimace faded, and his eyes began to clear. Oh well, he could always blame this on the flare.

Thomas stood, frozen in the warm sun. The silence around them felt deafening, and even in the open space, Thomas felt like everything was closing in on him.

His best friend. His right hand man. His confidante. Newt was Thomas's everything. Well, except....

Newt was staring at Thomas, fear flashed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Newt. I wish....I wish I could...."

"You wish, you wish, you bloody WISH?" Newt charged on Thomas.

"YOU bloody wish you could? I wish you could Tommy. Do you know how much it hurts to do this? To watch you foolishly risk your life for her...."

Newt forcibly covered his mouth, as tears fell from his eyes. He couldn't do this anymore. He was too hurt.

"Newt...I...."

Thomas cautiously began to reach for Newt. Newt noted that Tommy had never struggled to reach for him before. Why now? Why was he afraid of Newt?

"Piss off, Tommy." Newt growled. 

"And don't bloody feel like you have to say anything about it, right?"

Newt held his breath as he passed Thomas. He would not fall apart in front of Tommy. He would NOT.

"Newt, wait..."

Thomas caught Newt by the arm, and held on to him.

"Let me go Tommy." Newt's voice was exhausted, and broken. He bit his lip to hold back anymore words or sobs.

"I'm sorry I can't...."

Newt shrugged Thomas away, and left without another word.

 

That Newt was in Beacon Hills again was no surprise. He liked it there.

The city had a small town feel, and he had liked running in the woods. What he really wanted, who he really wanted, was Stiles.

In the times that he had come back to the town, he had looked for, but had not seen Stiles, or Derek for that matter.

He had done some snooping, and based on what he remembered, he had found the loft where Derek lived.

Newt ran around the woods often, because in the memories, the boys always seemed to find themselves there.

Night had fallen, and Newt was wandering the woods again. In the dark, in the distance, he thought he saw two figures in the distance, standing behind the trees. 

One figure sunk to their knees in front of the other.

Titillated, Newt started to move in closer, when he noticed the woods were brighter. 

Turning around, he saw the light again, it was opening through the copse of trees, and he was already running.

"Newt." 

A woman's voice quietly murmured through the darkness, somehow echoing in the woods.

"Newt." 

Newt's legs pumped and his adrenaline surged, as he tore through the woods, branches breaking in his wake.

"Newt."

This time the voice was a man's voice. Weak. Weary. 

Newt did not know why, but he pictured an old, hobbled man, with thick wrinkles, and scabby, gnarled hands. Reaching for him.

Tears filled Newt's eyes, as he ran, heart thundering in his chest, tears streaming.

Newt found himself out side the woods, on a hard pavement road.

The bright lights were still chasing him.

Then they swerved.

Newt held his hands over his face, bracing for impact, but none came.

The thundering purr of an engine hummed in front of him, issuing from a sleek, ink black corvette. The door opened, and a tall handsome stud stepped out.

"Are you alright?" a deep, reassuring voice called out.

Newt lowered his hands, and came face to face with a familiar pair of eyes.

Shit.

"I'm....okay.....?" 

Newt didn't mean it to sound like a question, but there it was. Derek Hale grinned a familiar grin. 

"Well, if you're okay. You look like something was after you." 

Newt noted the way Derek's ears twitched, and nostrils flared. His eyes glanced over Newt cautiously. He blinked a few times, but said nothing.

"Do you need a lift anywhere?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically, I am making this up as I go along. I am probably going to add to this every week to 10 days.
> 
> How long it goes will be up to if I can think of where I want it to go.
> 
> If I got things wrong, it's an AU, just go with it.
> 
> Let me know what you thought in comments. Consider them like the change you put in a street buskers hat/guitar case.


	7. Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt finds some salvation in a strange place.
> 
> He also finds a bolder, better version of himself.
> 
> Unfortunately, he also finds trouble.
> 
> **WARNINGS**
> 
> Some Smut, Sex, and Sexual Situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In This Fic:  
> **Thomas is straight  
> **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
> **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
> **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
>  
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

Newt didn't say too much on the trip into town, aside from answering the few questions Derek asked. 

"I don't think I've seen you before in Beacon Hills."

"I'm just visiting." Newt nodded. It wasn't a lie.

"Who do you know in Beacon Hills?" 

"I don't, but I'm considering moving here." Newt responded quickly.

Derek nodded.

"You should be careful, the woods aren't a safe place at nice. Or in the day."

Newt grinned.

"Couldn't be all that bad, if you're out there."

Derek shot a look over at Newt.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe." 

 

They stopped in the city, and Derek and Newt got out of the car. They entered an almost empty coffee shop, where one of the patrons walked up to them.

"Well, my nephew, who have we got here?" 

A handsome, older man approached the two of them, a wolfish grin splitting his face.

"Why, I do believe you're new here in Beacon Hills?" 

Newt nodded, feeling very shy all of a sudden. The man's eyes bore into Newt. He had heard of undressing someone with their eyes. He had been guilty of doing it to Tommy.

Now here this man was looking Newt over like a piece of meat. Newt wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was the first time he felt wanted, desired.

Derek approached his uncle. "Peter, can you please put your eyes back in your head. Newt, this is my uncle, Peter."

Peter took Newt's hand, shaking it, and letting his thumb brush over the top of Newt's hand. 

"It's a pleasure."

Newt blushed. "Same." 

"Can I interest you in a drink?" 

Derek raised an eyebrow. 

"Peter, I don't think he's old enough."

"He's the right age if he comes back to the loft." 

"Stop that." Derek stepped in front of Peter, breaking their contact, and staring down the older man.

"Well how about something from here? Something light, and sweet? With a creamy finish, maybe?"

"Maybe he wants something younger, and more full bodied."

"Dark and bitter as well? I think he can do better. Sometimes, aged is far tastier."

Newt blushed, and felt his stomach flip flop. Were these two men actually fighting over him?

Peter leaned in, and mumbled something into Derek's ear, causing Derek's features to darken in anger, or sadness.

Derek turned around, and taking Newt's hand, began to walk away from the older man, who kept his eyes on them as they exited the shop.

Newt glanced back, and almost stumbled, as the older man's eyes flashed a bright blue. 

Newt wasn't sure how to feel about that.

 

"You seem familiar." Derek kept looking at Newt. As if trying to remember the last time he saw the blonde.

"I get that a lot." Newt nervously looked away.

"Will you be going to school here?" 

Newt paused. "I don't think so. I mean, I'm not sure school is right for me."

Derek blinked.

"What?" Newt looked at Derek.

"How old are you?" 

Newt pursed his lips. "How old do I look?"

Derek let his eyes roll over the boys features, his body, his hands.

"You look pretty young, like you should still be in school."

"Well, if I was," Newt leaned in, "would you help me study anatomy?" 

Newt had no idea where all this confidence was coming from, but damn if he wasn't enjoying it.

Derek smiled, and turned away. 

"I don't know." A bit of a cloud passed over Derek's eyes. 

"Sorry." Newt bit his lip. "I guess I'm coming on too strong." 

Derek looked at the lost blonde, and shook his head.

"I'm kind of in a complicated place right now."

Newt nodded. "Same."

Derek leaned in, and Newt thought it odd, but he seemed to be smelling Newt.

"Are you sure you haven't been round here before?" Derek asked.

"I just can't get a bead on you. You seem very familiar, but...."

"I'm sure I'd let you put more than a bead on me." Newt flirted again, hoping to throw Derek off.

He leaned in, and nuzzled Derek, feeling bold.

Derek grinned. 

 

They walked the streets together, and passed by a diner. Newt looked in and saw Stiles, regular Stiles, sitting with another boy in the booth.

The boy was about his age, with big brown puppy eyes, and a crooked jaw. He was sitting next to Stiles, with his arm around the pale teen, rubbing the boy's shoulder.

Stiles lay with his head contentedly on the other boy's chest. His eyes were closed, and he was wearing a satisfied look on his face. 

Newt felt his heart drop a little bit. 

 

The disappointed feeling didn't last long, as Derek dragged Newt into the diner, where they grabbed a booth across from the Stiles and the other boy.

Derek sat on the same side as Newt, and after the waiter brought them a couple of sodas and a basket of fries, they cuddled up, aware they were being watched. 

Newt blushed as Derek fed him curly fries, and flirted with him.

It took no time for Derek to start making out with Newt. 

 

Minutes later, he glimpsed Stiles and the other boy leaving. Derek pulled back, and sat, moping.

"This seems odder than it should be." Newt observed the extremely quick change in the atmosphere.

"I'm sorry. I just..." Derek began.

"I'm not him, aren't I?" Newt finished, quietly.

Derek had the decency to look ashamed.

Newt felt a lump in his throat. 

He had only felt low a few times in his life. But this? This was the worst.

Fuck this shit.

Newt grabbed the brooding hunk, and dragged him out of the diner.

 

Derek Hale was one Hell of a fuck. 

Newt was shoved up against the wall, with Derek's tongue shoved down his throat, and Derek's dick shoved in his ass.

Derek was pounding into him angrily, cathartically. 

His hips were relentless, and his tongue hungry. The way he had opened Newt up with it to take his fuck...

Newt was thrusting his own hips back in response. He felt so powerful riding Derek, and even pinned against the wall, he felt like he was fighting for dominance.

He was vocal, almost violent with his fuck. Daring the man to take him. Doing everything he could to own the top with his hole.

He was sure that he wasn't going to hurt this beast.

Newt was sure, behind Derek's shut eyelids, he was imagining Stiles. Newt had his own eyes closed, and pictured Tommy.

It twisted inside him. The anguish of his missed love, and the knowledge that he would never, ever get to feel this with him.

The pain of the image, combined with the fullness in his rectum made it slightly more bearable. He locked his ankles around Derek's naked waist.

He lowered his head and let himself be used like a fucktoy. Like something disposable. It freed him somehow. 

"Destroy me, Sir." He whimpered while Derek pounded away.

Derek came with a growl, flooding Newt's guts.

 

Derek lay snoring, deep in sleep. Newt was curled up next to him, with his head on his chest. 

Newt was satisfied with what had happened. He knew that there weren't many people who could say they both fucked as, and got fucked by, the same person.

Absentmindedly, Newt ran his hands over the powerful body he had inhabited, and reached up, running his fingers through the snoring man's hair.

That's when the playback began.

 

It was almost like watching a TV show. A wonderfully homoerotic TV show on a failed network that was once an important cultural staple.

The first image was a lone boy, curled on black sheets in a familiar bed. The starkness of his skin a brilliant contrast to the sheets.

Stiles.

Newt watched as Derek looked over the slim, naked teen. He was flustered and panicked. 

"No. No. This is not happening, not this." Newt could hear Derek's panicked whisper.

Well shit.

"Huh?" Stiles stirred from his foggy, satiated sleep. 

Derek already had Stiles's clothes on the bed, and had started to dress the sleeping teen. 

Clad in sweats, and nothing else, Derek carried Stiles like a princess, and ran out of the loft with him. 

Newt watched in first person as Derek ran through Beacon Hills in the dead of night, breath huffing, as he took Stiles to his own house.

Newt watched in disbelief, as Derek deftly jumped from floor, to tree, limb to limb until he was outside of Stiles's window.

Entering the room, he set the teen on his own bed. 

"Mmmm....Derek..." Stiles mumbled in his sleep. He reached his arms out, grabbing the empty air.

"Don' go Derr...." the boy slurred.

Newt watched from Derek's perspective, and was shocked to see tears forming in Derek's eyes. 

"love you....my Der bear...." Stiles shuffled on his bed, getting comfortable. 

Stiles head rested on the pillow, and his hind end was raised up in the air, almost like an invitation to Derek.

"My Alpha..." the teen mumbled in his sleep. "Mine..."

Derek turned away, crying. He spied a pair of Stiles old used underwear on the floor, and grabbed them. 

Tucking them into his pocket, Derek silently leaped out of the window.

 

Newt was half-dressed and out the door of the bedroom, where he crept down the stairs, pulling his shirt on.

"Late night?"

Newt spun around. 

Peter Hale stood, bare to the waist at the kitchen counter. His muscular upper body looked amazing, as he walked toward Newt with a glass of wine.

"What are you doing up?" 

"Well, I'm not 'up' yet." Peter grinned, offering the wine to Newt.

"No thank you, I don't drink." Newt declined.

"You mean you don't drink wine. The smell on your breath tells me you've been drinking all night." Peter winked, downing both glasses.

Newt felt himself blush.

"But was I right? That boy is so bitter."

Newt turned, fitting his arms through the shirt. It felt very weird to be discussing this with Peter.

Peter just continued to watch Newt, and approached him, running a strong hand up the boy's abs, and up his chest.

Newt felt a weird, unnerving attraction to Peter, as much as he didn't want to feel one.

"But you know, I'm much, much, sweeter." Peter brushed a strand of hair from Newt's face. 

Newt leaned in to the touch, feeling giddy. This felt different from Derek's desperation.

"It's okay Newt. You can let go with me." Peter's lips were on Newt's neck, moving up to his ear.

Newt pulled away. He had a mission to complete.

"I can't...." He said, disappointing the older man. "I have to go."

"Well, color me disappointed." Peter leaned in, and kissed Newt's neck.

"But I understand. Run, little fox. I'm only too happy to chase you."

Peter leered at Newt, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. 

"Just remember one thing, my pet."

Newt looked back as he opened the door to the loft.

"Not everyone here is who they pretend to be."

 

Newt ran through the dark streets, past the main road, the diner, the Sheriff's station. He raced past the service station, and shopping center.

He managed his way over, remembering landmarks, locations, and found himself in front of Stiles's house. 

There was a blue jeep parked out front, next to a green and white dirt bike. 

The front porch light was on, but the rest of the lights in the house were off. 

Newt looked at the tree, and figured out his footholds, climbing it to Stiles's window.

Peering into the dark room, Newt could see two figures huddled in bed together. Newt's heart skipped a beat, and a lump threatened to rise in his throat.

The window was locked. 

Newt reached a hand out, as if trying to figure out a way in. Suddenly, the latch of the window wiggled. 

Blinking, Newt moved back a bit. It was unlikely, but it happened. Newt tried again.

The latch of the window moved, slowly, but it moved. Once it unlocked, Newt carefully moved the window open.

He was standing in the room now, listening to the boys combined breathing. Little snores, snuffles. 

Stiles whimpered in his sleep, and it almost broke Newt's heart.

Newt quietly approached the bed, and Stiles. 

He gently laid his hand on Stiles's head, and closed his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Derek, in the woods. They were younger, and Derek didn't yet have his full beard.

Newt could feel the excitement, arousal and embarrassment, vividly. The longing was there from the first look.

Stiles's memories of Derek were most vivid, sitting in a cop car staring at the man, being pushed up against the wall.

Another memory, Stiles saving a drowning Derek. In another, laying on top of a paralyzed Derek.

The next memory was familiar to Newt, and the most vivid: the sexual encounter between Stiles and Derek, seen through Stiles's eyes.

The feeling of elation, of utter sexual abandon. The waking up the next day, confusion. Had it all been a dream? A very vivid, lucid, fluid filled dream.

Stiles confronting Derek tearfully, and Derek's gruff dismissal of Stiles.

Wait, what?

Derek was turning Stiles away? It didn't seem to make any sense, given what Newt had seen in Derek's memories.

More memories, Stiles weeping, uncontrollably. His friend, holding him. 

Scott.

"Why Scott? Why is he doing this to me?" 

Newt felt tears form behind his own eyes. 

Scott reply was gentle, but stung.

"I told you Stiles. Derek only cares about himself. I told you this would happen if you tried to love him."

Stiles's sobbed into Scott's chest, as his friend held him.

Staring down at his own hand, phone clutched it like a dagger. 

The contact read "my sourwolf"

"Please Derek. Please talk to me...."

"You've reached a voice mail box that is no longer in service."

"Fuck you. Fuck you, you piece of shit."

Stiles threw the phone against the wall, and screamed.

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

Then there was blackness. Darkness.

Newt pulled away, shaking. There was so much anger there. It felt cold, and uncomfortable.

 

Shaken, Newt pulled back, tears fell from his eyes as he opened them. His heart was thundering.

Aware that he may be making too much noise, he looked around. The still silence and darkness remained undisturbed.

For the first time ever, Newt truly felt like the ghost he was. 

Moving quietly around the room, Newt noticed the pictures on the walls, Stiles, Scott, other teenagers. Friends, team mates, all smiling.

Newt felt a pang in his heart. He could easily picture himself, Tommy, Minho. The only pictures Newt had of them were in his head.

In his heart. The images of Tommy were practically seared onto his soul. 

One of the pictures showed a group, but the far end had been torn off. Half of Stiles body was there, but if he had been holding something, it was gone.

Something bothered Newt. He didn't know why he was so involved in this, but here he was.

He walked over to the side of the bed where Scott lay, snoring.

Newt pressed his hand to the boy's head.

 

The first memories that come up, are not of Stiles. They are of another boy, tall, dark, and lean.

They are in bed, naked and kissing. Newt almost pulls away, the intensity is almost too much.

He sees through Scott's eyes. Tying this boy up to the bedposts, running his hands over the muscles.

"Please Scott.... I need it... I need you so bad..." the boy whimpers.

"Oh Danny boy...." Scott is teasing him with his fingers now. "You know I love when you beg...."

Newt watches as Scott penetrates Danny with his thick cock, and Danny moans in pleasure. 

"You're mine." Scott growls. Danny nods. 

"Yours, Scott....all yours."

Newt felt a perverse thrill watching it all.

Scott owning Danny. 

Weeping over a girl.

Angry at Stiles.

Intense anger over Derek.

"I told you Stiles...."

Newt watched the memory he just saw, viewed from the other side.

"Derek doesn't just care about himself, he's helped us before." Stiles sniffled.

"He never helped you Stiles. You just wasted all those years pining after him, and he just..."

"It wasn't a waste." 

"Just like you did with Lydia, just like you did with me, just like you did...."

"You're really going to bring all of this up now?"

"I'm sorry Stiles."

"I wasn't wrong. I know he likes me."

"Stiles, just be mine. Be my beta. Love me. Let me own you."

Stiles buried his face in Scott's lap, and sobbed. 

and Scott looked away, smiling.

 

"You stay away from him."

The woods are dark. Derek is standing in front of him, with an angry look on his face.

"Stiles is mine. You have no business with him."

"Stiles is a person, not a possession. You don't 'own' him." Derek growled.

"He loves ME, not you." Scott spat out angrily.

Derek set his jaw, and a tear glinted in his eye.

"You know I'm not lying."

"Scott. I never ask for anything. Ever. But this....Stiles...."

"You don't even have a pack Hale. You just have your creepy uncle."

"This is what it's all about then, isn't it?"

Newt could FEEL Scott bristling.

"This is all some sort of revenge. Punishing me, because of what my uncle did to you."

Derek closed his eyes and sighed.

"I don't have a pack. You took my pack. You took them, and left me with nothing, not even the one person who would have me."

"Derek Hale. No one wants you." Scott shook his head, and turned around walking away.

"If I see you around Stiles. If you touch him. If you try anything, I will end you."

 

"Scott, Stiles looks terrible. What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, Kira, nothing."

"I can tell Scott. It's like someone took the batteries out of him."

"Kira." Scott moved in, and stroked the girls' cheek. "He's fine. He's just a little bummed cause he found out Derek is gone for good."

"What do you mean, gone for good?" 

Scott leaned in, kissing Kira, and running his hand over her breasts.

"Why talk about him, when we can talk about us?" 

Scott's hands moved lower, causing Kira to moan.

 

Newt pulled away. He didn't want to see that memory. He felt like he knew too much now. He stumbled backward, and reached for the window.

Hopping out of the opening, Newt had moved down to the street without thinking.

He wandered into the night, trying to piece everything together.

It suddenly made sense. 

The fact that Stiles came to him as Derek so quickly. There had been no resistance, just need. Want.

The sudden realization that Derek didn't WANT to leave him. That Derek HAD to leave him.

Of course that meant that Stiles might be open to Newt. 

Of course he might not be. 

Newt cursed himself. Now was not the time for that. 

and what the Hell were these guys that they were able....

An ominus growling from the darkness behind him broke his thoughts.

Newt slowly turned around, and felt his stomach drop.

Scott was standing there, eyes glowing red. His face had gone from cute and puppy-like to that of a feral wolf.

He snarled at Newt, exposing a mouth full of fangs.

Newt took a few slow steps away, with Scott matching him with a step forward for each one he took backward. 

He was toying with him. 

Scott growled and charged Newt, who turned and ran. 

Looking behind him, Newt knew he was going to die. Again. 

Newt ran, as fast as he could. He knew Scott was closing in. The forest was in sight. 

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. 

Newt begged as the trees got closer, and so did Scott. 

Staring at the trees, Newt had a thought.

Please Work. Please Work. Please Work!

Closing his eyes, he visualized the roots lifting, becoming legs, and the branches arms....

(past)

The bodies moving forward

(the)

and stumbling, then running toward him

(gone)

and Scott, arms outstretched 

(Tommy! HELP ME!)

Scratching, snarling, screaming into the darkness toward him, past him.

Newt conjured and sent forward his army of cranks, stopping only when Scott howled and snarled, snapping at them.

Running into the woods, Newt hoped they held Scott off long enough for him to get away.

Before Scott realized they weren't real.

Newt spun around in time to see them both collide, the sounds of snarling and bones crunching broke the peace and quiet of the night.

Panting, clutching his chest, Newt continued to run into the night, headed back to the woods.


	8. Even Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt hides.
> 
> He takes a trip.
> 
> He wakes to a nasty surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt realized most of his life has been a lie. He does not take it well.  
> In This Fic:  
> **Thomas is straight  
> **Newtmas is brotp not otp  
> **Movie Ending, but Newt has few/unsure memories  
> **Void Stiles is a dick
> 
>  
> 
> I AM GOING TO WARN YOU, THIS WILL BE A DARK FIC!
> 
> There will be lots of objectionable stuff here, so if it doesn't tickle your pickle, please move on.
> 
> These are dark demons we're dealing with people.

Newt wandered the forest, in the dead of night. His head began to hurt, and he remembered what Void Stiles had told him about losing his energy, his powers.

At this point, Newt 

(You can't give up)

didn't even feel like he was going anywhere any more.

(I won't let you)

He couldn't even remember

(Thanks, Newt)

Why he was even here in the first place.

 

"You really care about him, don't you?"

Minho trudged next to Newt, as they followed Jorge in the Scorch. 

"Of course. I care about all you shanks."

"But, it's kinda different with Thomas, isn't it?"

Newt glared at the runner, a warning flashed in his eyes.

Don't.

"No, it's cool, you know. You really......" 

Newt stopped and pulled Minho aside, gripping him by his shoulders.

"Shuck!" 

"No." Newt held his finger up to Minho's face and pursed his lips together.

"No." He looked like he might bite his own lips off. "You say say nothing." 

Minho's face registered equal parts hurt, and sadness.

"Newt. It's okay. It's gonna be okay." 

"Nothing." Newt mumbled angrily, releasing Minho, and stomping off, leaving a stunned friend in his wake.

 

"Everything okay back there?" Teresa asked, catching up to Newt, and gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Bloody fine." Newt angrily shrugged off her touch from her, and pushed forward, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. 

 

"There." 

They group had been watching Marcus's place from a distance. Jorge had gone on, trying to find out what he could.

Newt was watching the streets with his field glasses, snatched from his find in the crank hovels they escaped. 

Aris moved in close to Newt. "Lemme see." 

Newt begrudgingly let Aris have a look. Ever since he had become chummy with Tommy, Newt had kept an eye on him. 

Bad enough he already felt like he had to keep an eye on Teresa, now this kid.

Bloody ridiculous. 

"They're trying to go in!" 

"Where's Jorge?" 

"Why is Brenda limping a bit?"

Newt watched as Tommy took a big swig of something nasty in a bottle, after Brenda did.

Bloody IDIOT

"Come on." 

Newt grabbed his pack, making sure his knife was in easy reach. Hidden, but in easy reach.

Minho and Teresa followed him, the rest following them.

Getting to the building without being noticed was difficult. 

A loud whistle caught their attention. They glanced to the side of the building, where Jorge stood in an alley. 

He turned, and the gang followed. Once in the alley, they crowded a wall.

Jorge held his finger to his lips, communicating silence, and they all watched as a piece of the wall gave way, a dark hallway beckoning.

 

Newt kept his eyes open, as Jorge, Minho and Fry went looking for Marcus upstairs. 

Teresa, Aris, and Newt combed the floor, watching the madness unfolding around them.

The throngs of people seemed to be divided into 4 categories.

The partiers, drinking, dancing with wild abandon.

The blissed out, passed out, drugged out piles.

The violent, thrashing people, happily devolving into madness.

The wretched, evil, cheering people, who were engaging in dangerous games.

Newt scanned the room, searching for Tommy, but nothing. Dipping in an out of the rooms like a ghost. He caught Teresa checking another room, and Aris in another.

He pushed his way into a crowd, standing in a circle, cheering.

 

The crowd was watching a man teasing a crank 

(Guess there's no point)

that had been tied up, and was snarling, lunging at the man, who brandished a gun.

(keeping this hidden)

As terrified as Newt was of the crank, a part of his heart hurt for the thing. 

(I didn't think......)

It used to be a person

(it would matter much anymore)

with a life, a family, friends. Maybe a love.

 

Newt turned away, the sound of the gunshot making him wince, and the sickening thud of a corpse hitting the floor.

Then, he saw him.

"Tommy!" Newt yelled into the crowd, watching as Thomas recoiled in shock, then horror.

"Tommy! Tommy, It's me!" Newt yelled, approaching Thomas, who had fallen down. 

Thomas had already passed out as Newt reached him. Teresa and Brenda ran from where ever they had been, and joined Newt.

Newt leaned down, and carefully lifted Tommy's eyelids.

The whiskey brown eyes were dilated, and he was mumbling incoherently.

"No.....Newt.....Crank......No......Can't.......be.......Newt......No......."

Newt looked up, flicking his hair from his eyes.

"He's high as the sky." Newt looked around.

"We need to get him out of here." Teresa pulled her hair back behind her ear.

"I can do it." Newt replied pointedly. 

The Brit grunted, but Tommy was too heavy.

Brenda took a step, then faltered. 

"Steady girl." Teresa kept Brenda steady on her feet.

"Let me help."

Aris reached down, and got Thomas's arm.

Newt glared at the boy, them immediately felt guilt for doing so.

"Newt. Let me help." 

Aris and Newt managed to get Thomas up, each with an arm of his around their necks.

Minho had found them as they stumbled through the rooms.

"Guys! You found him! Come on!"

They managed to get Thomas up the stairs, and into the room where Jorge had found, and tied up Marcus.

 

Wandering deep into the woods, Newt felt something unlike he had ever felt before. An energy, calling him.

(Newt....come on buddy)

The pull was immense, but comforting. If it was power, it was a kind one, and Newt wanted it. He craved it.

The woods got thinner as he moved deeper into them, and he kept following the thrumming, the feeling like a heavy bass beat in his chest. Like when he was

(Newt!) 

searching. For something. Someone? Something?

(Newt! Stop it, you're gonna kill....)

Someone. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. 

"TELL US!"

"NEWT! PLEASE!"

Newt watched as the man, tied to a chair, lay bleeding. Newt was panting, heaving breaths, clutching something.

He dropped it, hearing the clatter of wood hit the floor. 

Jorge stepped up behind him. 

"Hermano." Jorge's voice was soft. Kind.

"You did a good job, but maybe I should take over from here."

Newt stumbled backwards.

He turned to find Aris, staring at him, half in fear, half in pity. 

"Newt." his voice was tinged with fear.

"Shank, come on." Minho reached for Newt's shoulder. Newt shrugged the grip, and found a spot next to Thomas.

He looked back at Minho, and flashed another warning glare at him.

Don't.

"He's okay. He's just drugged." Teresa had not left Thomas's side the moment they had laid him down. 

Newt nodded. He didn't trust his voice anymore. He didn't trust Teresa either.

What the Hell had they all gotten themselves into? 

 

Newt found himself at the base of an immense tree. The stump was so large, he could fit five of him across the top.

Green moss had grown across the top and it looked so soft and inviting. Newt felt so tired.

It couldn't hurt, just to stop. 

To rest.

Just for a minute.

 

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing happened. We took a drink, it was the only way to get in."

"That was still foolish." 

"Look, Newt, that's why I took the drink first."

"I still don't understand..."

"I wouldn't let anything happen to him."

In those words, Newt saw himself, and saw everything he would never be. It hurt, so much.

"I bet you wouldn't." he replied flatly.

Brenda felt like she had been slapped.

Newt walked away, both feeling vindicated, and like complete crap.

 

Newt was in the Void again. It was different now. The energy was different. He was different. 

Instead of feeling like the space was confined, the space felt limitless. As if every possibility lay before him.

"Newt."

Newt spun around, and found an old woman standing behind him. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her eyes were soft and brown. 

Her long, snow white hair fell down her back. She wore a blue and white dress, which looked like it had seen better days. It wasn't torn, just old, worn, threadbare.

"Newt."

Her voice was weary, but warm. He couldn't detect if she was happy, or sad, or relieved. She just seemed to be there. Calling to him.

He wanted to run, but couldn't. 

"Do...do I know you?" 

She nodded. 

"Can you speak?"

She shook her head.

"Okay. So I guess you can't tell me why you're here then?"

She got a sad look in her eyes, as if he had said something that hurt her feelings.

Newt watched as she carefully raised her hand to his face. 

Her touch was warm, like she was alive. 

Familiar.

Newt's eyes teared up uncontrollably, and he felt like he was going to fall apart.

Her eyes were shining, as if she were crying, but no tears fell.

 

She walked ahead of him, or floated. Her dress was long enough, and she moved with enough grace that she could have been doing either. Newt would never have known.

Passing through this new Void, Newt noticed there were many rooms, their arched door frames held a glowing ball of colored light.

These lights moved, and changed, and sometimes seemed to echo sounds. One in particular, an orb of blue and white, with sandy beige called to him, literally.

"Newt."

"Newt." 

The voice sounded distorted, almost underwater. It was an old and tired voice.

Newt could have lived a million more years, but no matter how old, or young that voice sounded, he would know it.

"Where are you when I need you the most?" 

Newt ran into the ball, but was pushed back, bouncing off of it as though it were rubber.

The woman held Newt by his shoulder, and shook her head, slowly, sadly. 

Newt shoved her off, and ran for the orb again, reaching his hands out.

"Tommy." 

Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy It's always been you Tommy

Newt flew back again, this time, landing on the floor. 

She was down to help him immediately. 

Newt closed his eyes, a silent scream on his lips. It was a pain he had absolutely no description for.

"Hush little baby don't say a word...."

Newt wanted to die. He was dead, but he just didn't know what to do anymore.

"Come on Newtie. Come on."

He could hear Tommy, calling to him. Singing to him. Loving him in his absence. Only in his absence. 

"Come find me Newt. I'm waiting for you."

Newt closed his eyes. He wanted to, so much. He had no idea how.

"I'm going to love you forever, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Newt felt hot tears burn behind his eyelids, and he felt the woman's arms encircle him, comforting. 

 

*BANG*

A gunshot sounded. The echo cracking through the tress. 

Newt opened his eyes, startled. 

Whatever he had been dreaming about was gone. The slate was blank. The last thing he remembered was the old woman with the white hair.

She was starting to fade.

Newt's eyes were open, and he felt recharged. He craned his head up, and took in his surroundings.

He was still on top of the stump, watching the light changing in the depths of the forest.

The gray dawn was peeking through the treetops, and there was total silence.

Newt stilled his breathing. 

The forest was quiet.

Forests are never quiet.

Fuck.

"Found you, little fox."

Newt spun around, and quickly jumped off the stump, ready to run.

"Peter?"

Peter Hale stood a few feet away, a sad grin on his face.

"You know, you're even more adorable when you sleep."

"Right. Aside from that, what are you doing out here?"

"Same thing you are, I imagine. Hiding?"

"I am not hiding."

"You always make a habit of sleeping in the woods?"

Newt fixed an annoyed look at the older man.

"So you want to explain why you were looking for me?"

Peter flared his nostrils. 

"You don't know what's going on, do you?"

"What's gone on? I've only been here a night."

"Try seven nights. I've been looking for you for a week."

Newt paled.

"What do you mean, I was gone for a week?"

"Exactly that. And I need to prepare you for everything that is going on."

Newt shook his head. That was impossible. He would have known he was gone for a week.

"Wait, what's going on?"

"My nephew, Derek, is in jail."

"In jail?!" Newt's eyes widened. "Why is he in jail?"

"For the murder of Scott McCall."

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, I am making this up as I go along. I am probably going to add to this every week to 10 days.
> 
> How long it goes will be up to if I can think of where I want it to go.
> 
> If I got things wrong, it's an AU, just go with it.
> 
> Let me know what you thought in comments. Consider them like the change you put in a street buskers hat/guitar case.


End file.
